Life is an illusion

 The lamp posts on the service roads look kind of funny. They look like a person bending and telling his master “please kick me. Kick me and make my day.” Like all these media persons. And a car on the curb. Abandoned, isolated, and completely forgotten. Like our common man.  And some trash on the side of the road, to make the road feel important. Like the dollops of hatred given out to the common man.  Yes these roads do represent us perfectly. 

 The world is certainly becoming colourful. I am not referring to colourful attire we Indians like to wear. In far away America (is it really far away?), the reds - the conservative republicans unleashed by Trump, are causing havoc. We all know about the anti-abortion bill. And conservatives are definitely planning a grand come back and take the nation back by few centuries. People are worried and scared that Trump might get re-elected and undo all the progress. Here back in home, all the ideas and ideals we revered, tried to live by, are being washed away. People are being vocal about their right to be fanatic, hateful and out right cruel. ghruna is replacing love everywhere. Logic is being replaced by what-aboutery. History is being changed to suit the requirements of people.  But I was shocked to see the glorification of demolition yesterday. Demolition of illegal twin-towers of 40 stories in Noida. Was it really the only way to go? Will the people who invested their life's savi

Ganesha came (and he saw and he went back. Deeply disappointed -  in us. ) The thing is, I shot a photo and I want to write a story around it.    But the problem is, unlike instagram stories, my photo is not about travel, food or anything extraordinary. It is the same photo I take around this time of the year. Of Ganesha idols waiting for you to take them home, waiting on road side. Then like every year, I will say, that I envy the Bengaluru people for their festivities and tell same old stories of our chauti habba of childhood. Same old ghisa pita story. But the truth is, I just happen to take that photo. As I wanted to go out, because I feel like a caged animal, sitting home 365 days. And I happened to see these idols and was happy I could click them without not of crowd around.   As people want to show off that they care about environment, there were many unpainted idols as well. Hopefully they are some idols of clay. Who knows, they could even be plaster of paris idols from china .

 I thought with the title idea of silly souls. But No, I don't want any controversial title. Like all of us, I don't want to use controversial titles, words, paragraphs. Mum is the word as all of us, we want to be politically correct. Well, I am a silly soul - that is a established fact. I was experimenting with my website - learn linux  . Now that I got hold of one system admin book and actually sitting and reading it, like a child who finds a new toy.   I decided to modify the website with the newly acquired knowledge. I tried in favorite browser firefox. Funnily enough, it wasn't displaying many of the setting icons in title bar. When I struggled, and some how managed to change a page, the update button was not clicking. Nothing, I am unable to modify the page, nor able to save the page. What the billions of blistering barnacles   are happening. I rewrote, rewrote and rewrote.  Then I thought I will use a different browser. It worked like a charm! For one day! Next day,

 ಬೆಳಗಿನ ಜಾವ ಕನಸು. ನಾನು ಇನ್ನೊಂದು ಹುಡುಗಿಯ ಜೊತೆ ಕಂಬೈನ್ಡ್ ಸ್ಟಡಿ ಮಾಡುತ್ತಿದ್ದೇನೆ. ಅದು ಯಾವುದೋ ಎಲೆಕ್ಟ್ರೋ ಮ್ಯಾಗ್ನೆಟಿಕ್ ವಿಷಯ.  ನೋಟ್ಸ್ ಓಡಿ ಭಯಪಡುತ್ತೇನೆ. ಎಲ್ಲಾ ಗ್ರೀಕ್ ಅಕ್ಷರಗಳು. ಡೆಲ್ಟಾ  ಇತ್ಯಾದಿ . ಇದು ನನಗೆ ಬರುವುದಿಲ್ಲ. ಎಂದು ತಲೆ ಕೆಡಿಸಿಕೊಳ್ಳುತ್ತೇನೆ.  ವಿಚಿತ್ರ. 57 ವರ್ಷದ ನನಗೆ ಇನ್ನೂ ಸ್ಟಡಿ ವಿಷಯದ, ಪರೀಕ್ಷೆಯ ಕನಸು ಕಾಣುತ್ತದೆ ಎಂದರೆ. ಫ್ರೈಡ್ ಏನೆನ್ನುತ್ತಾನೆ ಇದಕ್ಕೆ. ನನ್ನ ವಯಸ್ಸು ಜೀವನದ ಅರ್ಥದ ಬಗ್ಗೆ, ನಿರರ್ಥಕತೆಯ ಬಗ್ಗೆ ಯೋಚಿಸುವ, ಕನಸುವ ವಯಸ್ಸು. ಆದರೂ ಒಂದು ತರಹ ಬದುಕ ಸರಿಯಿಲ್ಲ. ಯಾವುದರಲ್ಲೂ ಉತ್ಸಾಹವಿಲ್ಲ. ಎಲ್ಲಿಗೂ ಹೋಗಬೇಕು ಅನಿಸುವುದಿಲ್ಲ. ಹಾಗೆಂದು QUIT ಎನ್ನಲೆ? ನನ್ನ ಜಾಯಮಾನದಂತೆ. ಆದರೆ ನನ್ನ ಕೈಯಲ್ಲಿ ಇಲ್ಲವಲ್ಲ. ಸರಿ, ಮನೆಯಿಂದ ಬೇರೆ ಊರಿಗೆ ಹೋಗಲು ಮನಸ್ಸಿಲ್ಲ. ಆಯ್ತು. ಆದರೆ ಮನೆ ಯಾವುದು? ಎಲ್ಲಿದೆ? ಸುಮ್ಮನೆ ಕ್ಲೀಷೆ ಆದ ಅಲ್ಲಿದೆ ನಮ್ಮ ಮನೆ ಇಲ್ಲಿ ಬಂದೆ ಸುಮ್ಮನೆ ಎನ್ನಲಾ? ಅಲ್ಲಿ ಎಂದರೆ ಎಲ್ಲಿ? ಎಲ್ಲೋ ಓದಿದಂತೆ ಒಂದು ರೀತಿಯ dual unbelongingness ಅಥವಾ omni unbelongingness ಕಾಡುತ್ತದೆ.  ಸರಿ. ಹೋಗಬೇಕು ಮತ್ತೆ ಅದೇ ಕುಕ್ ಕ್ಲೀನ್ ರಿಪೀಟ್ ಯಾಂತ್ರಿಕತೆಗೆ.

 Do you know how does the incandescent bulb glows? When there is resistance the flow of current, the filament heats up and glows. And gives us light. So what will be the purpose of life if it has no obstacles?  See, I do write this blog post infrequently, and everything is smooth. Except when I try to log out. But it is almost smooth. Not good, not at all challenging.  I started or rather continued my Linux website - editing some pages, adding few more. Only to realize that the edit options have vanished. Aha, this is fun. Google, more google, try out all options. Try it out on all browsers, on all machines and tablets and phones. Just to make sure that the problem persists on all of them.  No, it did not get resolved. But I really had an interesting time. Much more interesting than mindless Netflix. That is the reason, I don't give up my old, linux laptop. In spite of having a brand new mac. My son thought mom spends too much time and energy on 'sudo' than do anything and

 "ಜೀಸಸ್ ,ಮೇರಿ ಮತ್ತು  ಜೋಸೆಫ್!"  ಇದೇನಿದು? ಸರಿಯಾಗಿ ರಾಮಾ  ಕೃಷ್ಣಾ ಎಂದು ಉದ್ಗರಿಸದೇ  ಇನ್ನೇನೋ ಮರುಳು ರಾಗ ಹೇಳುತ್ತಿದ್ದೇನಲ್ಲ! ನಮ್ಮವರ  ವರ್ತನೆಗಳಿಂದ ಬೇಸತ್ತು ನಾನು ಕನ್ವರ್ಟ್ ಆಗಿಬಿಟ್ಟಿದ್ದೇನಾ  ಎಂದುಕೊಳ್ಳಬೇಡಿ.  ಈ ಉದ್ಘಾರ  ದಿ ಬುಕ್ ಥೀಫ್ ಎಂಬ ಜರ್ಮನ್ ಪುಸ್ತಕದಿಂದ ಆಯ್ದಿದ್ದು. (ಲೇಖಕರು - ಮಾರ್ಕಸ್ ಝುಸಕ್ )  ಆ ಪುಸ್ತಕದಲ್ಲಿಯ ಜನರು ಪದೇಪದೇ ಹೀಗೆಂದೇ  ಉದ್ಗರಿಸುತ್ತಿರುತ್ತಾರೆ. ನಾವು ಹೇಳುತ್ತೇವಲ್ಲ - ಅಯ್ಯೋ ದೇವರೇ, ಅಯ್ಯೋ ಭಗವಂತ, ಹೇ ರಾಮ್ ಅಂತೆಲ್ಲ - ಅದೇ ರೀತಿ. ಇಷ್ಟು ಸುಶಿಕ್ಷಿತ ಮೃದು ಬೈಗಳಾ - ಪಾಪ ಬಡಪಾಯಿ ಜನ, ಸುಸಂಕೃತ ಬೈಗುಳೆ ಗೊತ್ತಿಲ್ಲ. ಅಥವಾ ಕಷ್ಟವನ್ನೇ ಕಾಣದ ಸಜ್ಜನರು ಎಂದುಕೊಳ್ಳಬೇಡಿ.  ಈ ಕಥೆಯ ಕಾಲ - ದೇಶ  ಎರಡನೇ ಮಹಾಯುದ್ಧದ ಸಮಯದ ಜರ್ಮನಿ. ಇವರೆಲ್ಲ  ಜರ್ಮನಿಯಲ್ಲಿ ನಾಜಿಗಳ ಮಧ್ಯದಲ್ಲಿ ನರಕಸದ್ರಶ ಜಗತ್ತಿನಲ್ಲಿ ಬದುಕಿದವರು.  ಅರೆ-ಸಾವು ಸಾಯುತ್ತ, ಸುತ್ತ ಮುತ್ತ ಹಿಂಸೆ ನೋಡುತ್ತಾ ಇದ್ದರೂ, ಅದನ್ನು ತಡೆಯಲಾಗದ, ಏನೂ ಮಾಡಲಾಗದ ಅಸಹಾಯಕಟೆಯಲ್ಲಿ ಬದುಕಿದವರು.  ಕಥಾನಾಯಕಿ ಲೀಸ - ಅವಳೇ  ಪುಸ್ತಕಗಳ್ಳಿ - ಅವಳೊಬ್ಬ  ಪುಟ್ಟ ಮಗು. ಅಣ್ಣ, ತಾಯಿಯರ  ಜೊತೆ ರೈಲಿನಲ್ಲಿ ಪಯಣ ಹೊರಟಿದ್ದಾಳೆ. ಹಸಿವಿನಿಂದ, ರೋಗದಿಂದ, ಅವಳ ಅಣ್ಣ ಅಸುನೀಗುತ್ತಾನೆ. ಹತಾಶಳಾದ ತಾಯಿ ಲಿಸಾಳನ್ನ ದತ್ತಕ್ಕೆ ಕೊಟ್ಟು ಎಲ್ಲೋ ದೂರ ಹೋಗಿ ಬಿಡುತ್ತಾಳೆ.  ಲಿಸಾಳ  ದತ್ತ ತಂದೆ-ತಾಯಿ ರೋಜ

Everyone writes about their childhoods - real or re-imagined. So let me start writing my own. In this school as I was the smartest in the class, I felt  like an uncrowned queen. But the smart ones do have to perform other duties - not only studying.  I clearly remember carrying home tens of  notebooks. To correct my classmates' math home-works. Because teacher was busy and he assigned me this work. And the good girl I was, I dutifully corrected their note books. And one more cringy task was to slap the classmates on their faces. When the teacher asks a question, and no one can answer it, the student who finally answers  earned the right to hold the noses of the others and slap them on their cheeks. Yes, I had done this task as ordered by the teacher.  But I remember one worse incidence. The teacher asked us to show the four directions - north, south, east and west. My arrow on the board was wrong. The mean teacher called my younger sister from other class. She answered correctly an

 Liesel is used to her mama calling her Saumensch or beatings for mistakes - tiny or large. She is even used to her mama scolding her dear papa in all colorful language and papa retorting back.  But what she finds different this time is their whispering. This certainly is scary. Few days back,  she had asked to papa can she write a letter to her mama. The other mama, not the foster parent Rosa Hubberman. He had agreed. Since then she wrote many letters and today she posted by stealing money for the stamps. And she told mama why the money she collected is lesser.  They are asking one another "Should we tell her?". Tell her what. What is wrong with her mama? Will she never be able to see her? But on the day of celebrations, things become clearer to her. A speaker in the town square was praising Hitler and berating the communists. Communists - this is a word she has heard before. When people were questioning her mother.  So is her mother imprisoned because she is a communist? Is

 Ten year old Liesel loves the smell of cigarettes. No, she doesn't smoke. She rolls the cigarettes with her foster parent Hans Huberman. Who reads books with her when she wakes from her nightmares. Who plays accordion to her.  So the smell brings a feeling of safety in her. She is the 'book thief' in the book by Makcus Zusak. So I tried to bring back my cigarette memory. No, sorry to disappoint you. I don't smoke. Didn't even smoke in my college days. Nor does my husband.  But my grandpa would. When we were little children, occasionally we would make a trip to a store to buy him cigarettes.  And what a trip it was. I know, you are all tired of our generation's stories about crossing mountains, rivers etc. for going to school. But this story is real. The shop was a kilometer away. We had to walk through the areca fields. We walk for a distance, then cross a stream on a foot bridge, then cross another plot filled with grass, and then finally walk the rest of the

Yes, I am accept that I did watch Koffee with Karan - two episodes of season 7. I haven't watched any saas bahu serial in the last 10 years - do they produce them at all. Nor do I watch many hindi films in Netflix or amazon prime.  But like I got bored of Hindi serials and films at one point in my life, now I am tired of English shows in streaming platforms. I feel like I have seen them all.  So Coffee with Karan. Or another reason could be that I watched the film Darlings two days ago. And I really loved the performance of Aliaa Bhat. And when I saw that Alia was a guest in this show, I thought I could watch this reality show without finesse but with gossip, bitchiness and meanness. And I sort of liked it - the other guest was Ranveer Singh - a slightly mellowed one. That actor isn't afraid of people. He was wearing a shirt with stars printed all over it.  Karan was having more nakhara (I don't know an equivalent English word) than poor little Alia. And she was nervous. 

 The world as we know it is shrinking at a very rapid rate. No, I don't mean scientifically, but just figuratively.  I was watching the series "The Dropout" in an Netflix platform. Yesterday, the same story was in one of the podcasts.  Until then I thought Elizabeth Holmes (no relation to Sherlock Holmes :) ) and her story was fictional. And may be she is an innocent victim being investigated by authorities.  We do see that authorities quite often investigate, grill and terrorize innocent people. So I thought this girl with a dream, is being questioned for no fault of hers.  But I couldn't be more wrong. Elizabeth Holmes, the first female startup founder of medical technology company Theranos, and a billionaire was defrauding her investors and general public. Her technology - which was supposed to perform multiple tests using a single tiny drop of blood was not working.  She managed to fool the investors, the scientific community and her employees. Should we say kudos

 If you are gatherer like me - even of books, you will love pdfdrive. I came across wheelock's latin book in that site. I was thrilled. Please don't ask why would I want to learn Latin. Because I don't have an answer. You could tell me - you wanted to learn Sanskrit for some dumb app building. As you are not getting good resources - free resources - you have selected yet another dead language. I will decline to answer. Yes, I have language learning app duolingo. In which I have finished few lessons in German, in French. Me using these not dead languages are equally remote as using Latin or Sanskrit. So. One good thing is I can deduce many English words - by knowing their Latin roots. And I have 24 hours of free time - almost. Let me utilize it in learning. And learning makes me feel smart. And you know that I need that feeling to survive in this not so friendly world.

  Violence against women is injurious to health.    That is the statutory warning shown at the end of the Hindi film "Darlings". Indeed it is - in that film. ( All other people in the world get away with all kinds of violence. ) The story is that of domestic abuse. On Alia Bhat by her husband. Like in all such cases, she lets him continue with his violence. Forgiving him each time when he begs and apologizes. Until even her kshama - earth like forgiving nature runs out. Alia Bhat is a superb actor among her contemporaries. I had loved her acting in Udta Punjab. And in this film too, she has acted superbly and so her Shefali as her mother. The story line is reasonably good. There is a sub-story told to Alia by her mother. One day there is a flood in the river and the scorpion begs the frog to sail her across the river. Frog is skeptic - how do I know that you won't bite me? It asks. The scorpion replies - if I bite you, both of us will die. I won't. Then scorpion sits